Each day, I awaken
as someone I do not recall
yesterday’s self dissolves
like salt in rainwater,
leaving only a faint outline
I cannot name.

I watch feelings and faces
rise and vanish,
a reel of strangers
moving through me
voices shifting in pitch,
hopes changing color,
beliefs melting into questions
before they find a shape.

My heart is a hall of mirrors
where nothing stays still,
reflections sliding past
before I can greet them.
I reach inward
but my hands pass through mist
whoever I was is already gone,
whoever I am is still becoming.

There is a deep confusion,
a constant turning
emotions swirl,
names and needs blur,
each new day a new mask
that fits just for a moment
before falling away.

How can I explain the ache
of never arriving
of always searching the crowd inside
for the one true face,
yet only finding
a thousand shifting shadows
dancing out of reach?

Looking back at my first week in Bulgaria...
Do not compare Cyrillic to Russian or face hysteria!

Don’t take it personal if folks seem grumpy or whiney,
Their hearts are still huge, though their dogs are all tiny.

A deep, proud history they gladly declare,
While we Western Europeans seem to shout everywhere.

I love the slow living, its pace and its grace,
Yet curse when my beer is last place in the race.

The first place I’ve been where no card tips apply,
Only cash levs will put a spark in their eye.

Five more weeks left to wander and play,
To learn how the locals make a slow life feel okay.

I am wearing my brother’s old t-shirt
when I see you dressed in white.
You’re smiling next to her.
You’ve never beamed that way before.

You look so grown up.
The boyish charm all washed up
into the greys of your mind—
where maybe, a picture of me dies.

Funny—this is our end.
You leave my revenge undone.
I imagined it would hurt more.
But my heart is steadily sad.

Treat her better than me.
Keep the other quests at bay.
Have a home.
Have children.
Have laughter.

Maybe,
when I am wearing white,
my smile will prove
that you never existed.